Only a Fool
by mtfrosty
Summary: Only a fool would try and kill his own father... Another Mustafar AU.
1. Chapter 1

ONLY A FOOL

Chapter 1

Why Mustafar? Why did you come here? You never did like heat, yet here the lava spurts uncontrollably, the smoke thickens the air, and the ground itself is charred and ashy. It crunches under my feet and turns my boots black.

Black. That awful color. Ever since you got your own starfighter, that black one, you've been obsessed with the color. Your robes, your room, even your hair somehow got darker. It used to be sandy blond and I always commented on how strange it was that so light a color could get so dark. You kept insisting that it had always been that way. I was afraid to comment on the condition of your heart. It used to be a shining beacon, but now it's like the ground beneath my feet. Charred. Would you have said that it had always been that way, just like your hair?

I pick my way over these black, dusty hills wondering why I'm here. As hard as I try, I can't come up with a reasonable answer for that. I'm here because you're here, I guess. Despite the fact that I was your master, I always ended up following you around, cleaning up your messes. More often than not I took a backseat to your heroics. You were always the more flashy of the two of us, waving your lightsaber around dramatically as you recalled the tales of our daring rescues… your daring rescues.

You always included me in them for some reason. I hate to admit it, but you were often the one doing the rescuing and I was often the one needing rescuing. Then again, it was usually you who would get us into those messes and then I would get into trouble trying to get us out of them. Then after I had done the dirty work, you would chop a few droids apart and rescue me from certain death. It got rather annoying, actually.

I remember how we used to tease each other. I think that you thought I didn't have a sense of humor when you first started training under me. You would always complain that I was stone-faced, unemotional. I think it was hard, because you wore your emotions on your sleeve. I remember the first time I let slip a bit of my renowned sarcasm.

You were cooking, or attempting to cook, one of those instant dinners in the microwave and the brownie heated up way before the macaroni. You burned the brownie and started swearing at the microwave like you had a personal vendetta against it… course, you probably did. I walked into the kitchen and asked who was winning. Bad joke really, but the look you gave me was worth it. I think that was the most sincere smile I have ever gotten out of you. Since then I've been counting the number of sincere smiles you've given me. My goal was to reach fifty before you were knighted.

I only made it to nineteen.

The first thing I spot is your black starfighter, sitting in a little dip between two hills. It's the first piece of physical evidence telling me you're actually here, though I've sensed your presence ever since I landed. It's hard not to miss your force signature. It's still brighter than Yoda's, though I would never tell you that. You've got a big enough head as it is. It's diminished, though. No, that's the wrong word for it. It's… colder, empty.

I walk past the starfighter, knowing you're not inside it. You're over the next hill, I can feel it. I stop and glance down at the little metal cylinder hanging down at my waist. Will you make me use it? I don't want to. You have no idea how hard I begged Yoda to let me fight Palpatine, though I know I wouldn't have lasted more than a minute. I don't want to fight you, brother. Can't you see that?

My legs feel heavy as I trudge to the top of the hill. Then it's my heart. It feels like lead when I see you not thirty yards away gazing out over the river of lava. You're still wearing your black Jedi clothes, though they never did seem very Jedi-like. You turn and look at me and I immediately shut my eyes, trying to remember the image of a little blond-haired nine year old with a big smile on his face and freckles on his cheeks. What happened, brother?

* * *

I know you're behind me before I turn around. You always were trying to sneak up on me, but you should've known better. I am the chosen one. My powers far outstrip yours, old man. I could beat you down with just my mind. But I'm not going to. That would be merciful and that I am not. You took everything from me: my mother, my emotions, my pride. You always said being a Jedi was the greatest gift anyone could ever dream of. You lied to me.

The Jedi are liars. As I turn around I see you grimace and shut your eyes as quick as you can. I smile, but there's no warmth in it. You don't deserve any kindness after stealing my life away. You were always holding me back, refusing to let me reach my full potential. I think you were embarrassed to have a padawan who was more powerful than you. I would be embarrassed.

It's a shame you survived Order 66, though I have to admit that I'm almost glad. Now I can repay you for what you've done to me. Qui-gon should have been my master, not you. You were a cold-hearted, stone-faced, completely insensitive master who knew just what to say to make me feel completely worthless. I would show you a new move with my lightsaber that I had finally perfected and you would just give a curt nod and then find something wrong with it. I wanted to go after my mother, but you said attachments were forbidden. You wouldn't even help me with my homework. You wouldn't listen to me when I tried to explain my actions.

I love the expression on your face right now. It's probably the first real emotion I've ever witnessed on you before. You were always known for that. You and your poker face. Your eyes were even unreadable and it infuriated me, though there was a touch of arrogance in them at times. You always thought you knew best. You were considered one of the wisest living Jedi. I was even proud to have you as a master at one time. I realize now that I was a fool to believe something as ridiculous as that.

If you were wise, you would have fled as far from this planet as possible, because only a fool would think that they could defeat me.

* * *

I open my eyes and the picture of happiness fades from my mind, leaving the fiery plains of Mustafar and a smiling young man standing in front of me. The smile holds no warmth. It saddens me that I've lost count of how many times I've witnessed that smile on your face over the years. You haven't lost your cockiness, at least. That's always been your trademark no matter how many times I told you that it was unbecoming of a Jedi. Your eyes hold a tinge of red in them. I force myself to believe that it's just an irritation from the dusty air… please let that be the truth.

You just stand there, staring at me. Your right hand rests near your lightsaber. I find myself wondering if it's still blue, or has it turned red? No, because your eyes are just irritated, right? It's still blue, I reassure myself. I look down at the ground, not wanting to believe what is standing in front of me. Maybe it's all an illusion, or a bad dream. If it's a bad dream, then I must be in a coma, because this dream is lasting too long.

I hear the crunch of pebbles and look up. You're slowly stalking toward me, your lightsaber out and in your hand, though it's still off. The smile hasn't left your face. I narrow my eyes, trying not to let the tears fall. They've been threatening for hours now, but I swore to myself a long time ago that I would never cry in front of you. I wanted to be strong for my younger brother. "Why, Anakin?" I whisper.

* * *

"Why?" I ask him, not believing what I've just heard. I laugh. How can he ask that when the answer is plain as day? He must be the least wisest Jedi in the entire galaxy, and that's saying something, because none of them are very smart.

"Why, Obi-wan? You took everything from me, that's why," I sneer. "You and your Jedi friends stole my life and now you're paying for it. You should have seen me at the temple. I finally got to put all of my new moves to good use, though no one really put up much of a fight. It was boring, really." I stop and relish the pained look on his face. It's the most beautiful thing I've seen. I guess my former master wasn't as emotionless as I thought. I casually twirl the little cylinder in my hand. "Did Yoda send you?" I ask him.

The look he gives me is somewhat unexpected, though not surprising coming from him. It holds a lot of pity, which I need none of. "Anakin, you have no idea –"

"Don't call me that," I snap at him. "It's Lord Vader now and it would do you good to use that title. I might decide to be merciful and let you live." Yeah right; the thought hadn't even crossed my mind.

He sighs, just like old times. He always sighed right before one of his lectures. He looks at me with those infuriatingly penetrating eyes. "Lord Vader." He says the name with both a hint of sadness and a touch of disappointment. I grin at him; it sounds cool with his accent. "What idiot came up with that name?" he asks without as much as batting an eyelid.

I am utterly shocked for a moment. I've never seen this side of him before and it almost makes me want to laugh, but then I realize that he means it as an insult and not a joke. My lightsaber turns on with a quiet hum. I still need to change the color of it. I narrow my eyes and grit my teeth. "That was a stupid thing to say, Obi-wan." I feel my eye twitch as the uncontrolled anger seeps its way to the surface. Despite the fact that I'm twice the fighter he is, I know that he will be one of the toughest opponents I will ever face and not because he knows what he's doing, but because we're brothers… though not for much longer.

* * *

I enter into my fighting faze, or what Anakin nicknamed the "Obi Zone". I set my jaw and narrow my eyes. The tears are still threatening and my insides are shaking, but I appear calm and confident on the outside.

The moment I realized that he wasn't going to even respond to his own name was the moment I knew I had to change my strategy. If there was any way I was going to win him back, I would have to crack that pride of his. So, I pulled out my sarcasm as a last ditch effort to tick him off, and it worked. I knew it would, because Anakin always takes things so literally.

It's terribly sad that I'm finally realizing all these new things about him, though I'm sure I knew them all along. I wish I'd talked to him more. Talk talked, you know? I wish he had seen more of what I was going through all those years. I had been too young to take him on as a padawan. And though we joked and teased each other, I know now that it wasn't sincere. Nothing was. Though I pretended it was sincere for my own benefit, because there's one thing that I won't deny.

I'm a hypocrite, a living contradiction. I told him no attachments. What I failed to tell him was how attached I had become to him, as a brother. I know now, even as I let my lightsaber come to life in my right hand, that I could not, and never will be able to fulfill my duty as a Jedi.

You see, Anakin, you're my brother. We have our quarrels, and we have our fights, but in the end you will always be my brother. You may fall into the deepest pit of darkness out there and never be able to jump out of it. But I promise you this: I will always be there at the edge of that pit, waiting for you to jump high enough to grab my hand, so I can pull you out.

But the first thing you need to do for me is jump.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He had been dubbed the Hero with no Fear, a devastating warrior who would jump into any situation without a second thought. A reckless and often insane pilot, he would constantly throw himself into the deadliest of air fights just for the thrill. The rescues he had pulled off over the years had been as daring as any. He often pulled them off single-handedly, destroying dozens of droids in displays of raw power that had never been witnessed before.

It was said that he was the Chosen One, destined to bring balance to the force. Until Order 66 everyone had believed that. Not even Yoda had rivaled him in force power. He could wipe out entire battalions with a simple gesture of his hand… but he refused to use the force right now. Classic Skywalker. Wiping out his former master with a wave of his hand would have been too easy. He wanted a challenge, and for that he had to give Obi-wan a chance, no matter how miniscule that chance was. He had to use his lightsaber.

His former master had attempted to drill the defensive style, Soresu, into him since he had begun training. But over the years, he had come to favor Djem-So. It allowed him to display his superior strength through a more attack-oriented style. It was a variant of Soresu, he would grant his master that, but it was far less defensive. Anakin loved to counter attack and then overpower opponents through sheer strength, and Djem-So let him do just that.

He had defeated Dooku a while back, a feat that Kenobi hadn't even been able to pull off. He had also defeated numerous Jedi masters back at the temple. He had always been aggressive, and Kenobi had let him find a style that worked for him. That might have been the mistake that would cost his former master his life.

Anakin was currently pushing Obi-wan back at a rate that most onlookers, had there been any, would have thought impossible. He was lunging at his former master with a daring combination of overhead blows and side slices that Kenobi was forced to block and retreat, which he did flawlessly to the annoyance of his former padawan. Anakin was buying his time, though. He had been through hundreds of spars with Obi-wan along with countless battles. He knew how the man thought; he knew every trick.

He was confident Kenobi would die at his hands. That was why he almost had his saber blown out of his hand when Obi-wan initiated a surprisingly strong counter attack. Then he leapt and flipped gracefully over Anakin's head.

Anakin growled in frustration. Obi-wan _never_ attacked and he certainly had never been one for acrobatics, at least from what Anakin had seen and experienced of Obi-wan's fighting skills. But he had made one crucial mistake.

He had forgotten his master had trained under Qui-gon Jinn, one of the Order's most legendary swordsmen.

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_Review if you have time! It's always appreciated!_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

He had been the Jedi Order's best negotiator. He was known for his clever and persuasive arguments as well as his ability to avoid violence at all costs. He had formed more treaties than possibly any politician of the decade, yet he hated politics with a passion. They were boring and consisted of too many unspoken rules for him to keep track of. He preferred being on the front lines than being in a senate debate.

Though he was known for his aversion to violence (he often referred to it as "uncivilized"), he was no stranger to armed combat. In fact, had "The Hero With no Fear" title not been claimed by Anakin, it could possibly have been given to him. Except he was less flashy. Anakin cut down dozens of droids simply because he could. Obi-wan referred to that as "messy" and simply believed that sneaking around the droids was a better tactic and far less hazardous.

Not that he was afraid. He would take the direct route if he was forced to. He had defeated Grievous, the notorious droid general with four arms and a stolen lightsaber to go with each one. To do so he had simply jumped into the middle of a ring of hundreds of droids and calmly challenged Grievous to a duel without even acknowledging the fact that he was in a hopeless position. Stunts like that were what the public rarely saw. All they saw of him was the calm, emotionless Jedi master who simply smirked at criticism and offered witty remarks to reporters.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was referred to as _the_master of Soresu. It was a purely defensive form of combat that was developed to deflect blaster fire, which Obi-Wan was a master at doing. In saber play, though, it was said that Soresu practitioners were practically invincible, and Obi-wan was evidence to that. Soresu utilized blocks and parries that were close to the body, using as little energy as possible. Rather than taking the full brunt of an attack, Soresu users simply diverted it. They were known to constantly give way in a fight until their opponents made a mistake. For this reason, Soresu users were some of the most patient beings in the galaxy, and their stamina was incredible. To be _the _master of Soresu was saying a lot.

Obi-wan had been using Soresu to ward off Anakin's strong, aggressive attacks. He had been surprised at the strength of Anakin's blows and had almost staggered under the shock of their two sabers meeting. After being battered like that for only a few minutes, Obi-wan was already feeling slightly winded, so he decided to pull his first trick out of his hat.

Anakin knew that Obi-wan had trained under Qui-gon, though after his master had died, Obi-wan had switched to Soresu. Anakin had witnessed Obi-wan using Ataru occasionally, but not a lot. He didn't know that Obi-wan had actually mastered the style before switching to Soresu. His former master regretfully started to employ some tactics from his old style. He knew Anakin would be surprised and would possibly make a mistake.

Even if he did, Obi-wan knew that he could never bring himself to capitalize on it.

* * *

_Sorry about the short chapters, but I didn't know how else to do it. Hope you're enjoying it!_

_Please Review! It's always appreciated!_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Master vs. Student

The moment that man jumped and flipped over my head, I knew I was in for it. I also knew that I would still beat him, because though he was a master and had been for a long time, I was the chosen one. No one could beat me, but he was probably one of only a few who could come close. Though he used only two forms, it was really a devastating blend, and to say that I was impressed would be an understatement. However, the sheer power of my Djem So was more than enough of a match, and he knew it too… but his stupid Soresu was proving difficult to get past.

I remember the hundreds of sparring matches we had put ourselves through, back in the days I had actually been proud to be a Jedi. He had always used Soresu, because I think that was the only thing that could possibly be used to match the strength of my strikes. He never attacked during our spars until he had worn me down, which took a while, because I think I actually matched him in stamina.

Our spars often went on for more than an hour and other people would come watch. I remember Windu leaning against a wall once with a look of utter awe on his face. Kenobi and I… well, we were practically unstoppable when we were together. But we were extremely competitive and when we sparred, it definitely walked the border between practice and an actual fight. I would try with everything I had in me to break through his defensive wall, and I never could. I don't think I ever won a single match against him.

But he never used Ataru during those spars, though I could tell he knew how. When he would finally pinpoint where I'd made a mistake, he would counterattack with blinding speed. There was also a subdued strength behind his attacks. I think he had been holding off on me, and that realization made me all the more furious. I glared at him as I slammed my saber up and into his guard. He stumbled back a few feet, but quickly regained his balanced. I paused for a moment, fuming. "You never taught me Ataru," I accused. "I had to learn what little I know on my own. You even held that from me. Was there anything you didn't lie to me about?"

I started walking forward until he started to reply. He had that look in his eyes again, the one tinged with sadness, but there was also something else. I had never seen it in him before, but I had heard stories from some of the older masters about when he had been younger. It was anger, but it was controlled. If only I could get it to come out of him, then I would win for sure. "Anakin," he began, using that name I despised. "You didn't want to learn."

"How do you know? I wanted to learn everything I could from you, but you were always holding something back!" I yelled at him. I lunged forward again, trying this time to take his legs off. But he merely jumped and flipped over my head… again. The searing pain in my left arm told me he had not only avoided my attack, but he had sliced at me in midair on his way by. I looked at my arm and saw a shallow cut about four inches long. I stared at it for a bit, not knowing what to think. He was holding back, just as he always had. We both knew that he could have easily just severed my left arm from my body… but he didn't.

* * *

I couldn't do it. I really tried, Anakin, I did. I always told you that duty comes first when you're a Jedi, but right now that's the last thing on my mind. Yoda told me to kill you, he said you were no longer the boy I trained. I didn't believe him for a second. I could have just taken your arm off and you know that. In that surprised look on your face I almost glimpse the boy you used to be. It almost makes me smile to see that look on your face. Did I finally break through that prideful ego of yours?

You thought you would win so easily. I think that's why you chose to fight me with a lightsaber, because you knew that I couldn't rival you in force power. And I can't. I'll admit it now, at least to myself. I could never admit that to you, no matter how much you wanted me to. Would that have made a difference? You have no idea how proud I was of you; how proud I still am, but I couldn't say that either, because I always told you that pride was a bad thing. I must be the biggest hypocrite that ever lived.

I see that you've finally gotten over the fact that I drew first blood. You shouldn't be surprised, Anakin. No matter how much better you think you are, I will always be your master. No, not master. Older brother. It's like fighting your twin. I'm almost certain that we'll be fighting for many hours.

It will end in a draw, Anakin. Can't you see that? I'm sad to say that I am actually the one that holds the advantage here. You don't see that, though. You disregard the fact that I taught you almost everything you know. Sure, you picked a different form than me, but did you ever realize that I was the one who helped you perfect it? Djem-so is not unfamiliar to me, Anakin.

You're attacking again. I can tell that your patience is wearing thin. That's one thing that I could never get you to learn. Patience. You're battering me with so much force that I know, chosen one or not, that you can't keep it up for much longer. Surely you can see that it's useless. There, Anakin. You made another mistake, leaving your left side open, but I don't do anything. I can't. Just like I couldn't slice through your arm. There's another mistake and this time I do hit you, making a small cut on your hip. I could have seriously wounded you there too.

You've switched forms, though I have no clue what you're using now. You're practically snarling with every strike you make. What is this? I've never even seen this form before. I jump out of the way of a particularly nasty attack, but you just follow me, not even giving me a chance to readjust. You didn't learn this from me. It's like you're powered by anger.

My mind flashes back to that dreadful day when my master was killed. I sliced that Sith in half. I never told you the details of that story, brother. I've fought with anger before. That was the first and the last time that I've ever done it. I learned to control my anger, though it occasionally tries to bubble to the surface. I'm sure you've seen it in my eyes.

Qui-gon always said he could read my eyes like a book. Look into my eyes, Anakin. Can you see how proud I am of you, how much I love you? Can you see the anger, Anakin? You're probably hoping I'll let it loose on you, become reckless like you're doing right now. I smirk at that thought. It's not happening, Anakin. Maybe if I truly was fighting a sith, or possibly Palpatine, then my anger might seep through, because I know they will be forever dark.

But not you, brother. The love that you've always failed to see in me will never be diminished by the anger that you can easily glimpse in my eyes.

* * *

I'm tiring. No! That can't be! I'm twice as strong as he is. He smirks at me. Where does he get the idea that smirking at me could possibly help his cause? Then he suddenly backs out of my reach and takes up that all too familiar pose that he used in my padawan days. He stands there with his arms crossed, his shoulders squared confidently. Then he speaks. "What do you think, Anakin? Should we call it a draw?"

I snort. "Do you think this is some kind of a game? You must realize that you aren't leaving this planet alive, old man," I growl at him.

He quirks a brow, one of his trademark expressions. "Resorting to empty threats now? That doesn't seem like you."

"I meant it!" I put as much power into my overhead chop as I possibly can and bring it crashing down full force on to his blue blade. But he just does what he's been doing, and redirects the slash to his side. I suddenly feel panic well up inside me as my entire right side is left wide open for him. But I feel nothing. In fact, I hear nothing. He didn't even move. I stumble backwards and stare at him. I think I spot more anger in those eyes than before, but he still hasn't let it go yet. "Are you done, yet?" he asks quietly.

I'm breathing hard and he's barely breaking a sweat. "Why didn't you kill me? That is what you were sent here to do, correct?" I ask, puzzled.

"Yes," he says. Then he smiles mischievously. "That backwards talking green troll sent the wrong man for the job."

How can he joke? How can he find humor in something like this? But I know. It's simply because that's who he is. He doesn't fear death. Well fine. Maybe he fears pain. I launch myself at him, my saber spinning in front of me. I aim for his right shoulder, attempting to cut straight through his arm. I hear him sigh and notice too late that he had already started pivoting to the side. His blade catches mine from underneath and redirects it straight up. Then something hard slams into my jaw and I'm jerked sideways. I spin a couple of times before I crash into the ground, dazed.

"Did you learn anything from me, Anakin?" he asks from behind me. He's still standing where he was before. I still don't know why he hasn't killed me yet.

He punched me. He was never a dirty fighter. Is that his way of releasing his anger? I slowly get back to my feet, feeling a new surge of energy rush through me. I raise my eyes to his. "Of course I learned from you," I say through gritted teeth. "I learned how to lie flawlessly. I learned arrogance. I learned how to shun somebody, how to make them feel the greatest shame they can possibly feel. Yes, Obi-wan, you taught me well."

I see his shoulders sag a little at those words and he looks away. I take that chance and charge at him. My arms swing around with my full strength behind them, my lightsaber aimed straight for his upper body.

He of all people should have been able to block the blow, should have seen it coming. He should have moved. I know he can ward off my strongest attacks. Despite my earlier misgivings, he's not as weak as people think.

All these thoughts go running through my head and I force them away. You ruined my life, old man, and you will pay for it with your own. But he seems to realize this. As my blade zips towards him at a blur, he turns his gray eyes back on me. I've always believed he could see straight into anyone's soul with that gaze. But I don't falter; don't even hesitate in my swing. Deep down, I know I've beaten him.

He doesn't move. Those gray eyes follow my blue blade all the way and right before it's about to cut into him, he looks at my face. Seeing that look of pure sadness backed by lifetimes of regret flash across his face, I finally hesitate. He should be angry, but instead he pities me. And because he pities me, he is letting me live.

I hate myself for not being able to kill him, but my blade changes directions anyway. Instead, he will feel the pain that he brought on me the first time we fought Dooku, him lying helplessly on the ground while I get my arm chopped off.

He knows what I'm about to do, too. But he still doesn't move. Instead, I witness one of the few things that I had never seen him do. I always thought he was incapable of it. Right as my blade penetrates his left elbow, I spot it: a lone tear sliding down his face. It's only one tear, but it gives me a glimpse into Obi-wan's heart.

He still loves me.

The wound is cauterized; it won't bleed, but the pain is excruciating. I speak from experience. I know I should be relishing in the pain that he is clearly feeling right now, but instead I turn away and start hiking back to my starfighter. I had passed out when my arm had been cut off. The pain was too much for me. He won't, though. Any amount of physical suffering is nothing compared to the inner torture that I saw in that one tear.

I can't watch, as much as I know I should. Instead, I turn my back on the only father I've ever known with the truth blaring in my mind. When it comes to love, when it comes to attachments, when it comes to strength, I should know better. Because only a fool would try and take on the wisest Jedi who ever lived. Only a fool would try and kill his own father.

My feet crunch over the ashy ground. I can still hear him groaning from the pain. Then there's a pause and I hear him yell the words that would never leave my memory from that moment on. "I forgive you, brother!" Only a fool would walk away from such a compassionate person… I guess I'm a fool.

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_Review... pretty please?_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

They called that battle "the beginning of the end." It was the end of the Jedi and the beginning of the Sith. That was when the Chosen One fell. Anakin Skywalker was no more; only DarthVader remained. It is said that after that fight, no more heroes were left. Master Yoda had failed and gone into exile. During Order 66 all Jedi had been killed, except Yoda and Kenobi.

Kenobi. That name would become the stuff of legends. They tell stories about that man, the one who trained the Chosen One, and the one who ultimately tried to save him from himself. They call it an honorable sacrifice, what he did. They think he perished in that battle. Even Master Yoda believed he was dead.

The truth? He retreated so far into himself that not even Vader could sense his presence. The force was no longer with him. No one knew what had become of him, that man shrouded in mystery. But Vader knows. He knows that his brother is still out there, waiting for him to turn back.

Vader. Now that's a different story altogether. Not many actually know his true identity. They knew he fought Kenobi and won, and that made him extremely powerful in their eyes. He rules the galaxy, the emperor's right hand man. No one really knows about the years of pain, confusion, and tragedy that ultimately led to the creation of Darth Vader.

He is known to be the only force user living, except for Palpatine. His red lightsaber is feared by all, as is his biting temper. No one knows that Anakin Skywalker is still fighting to emerge from behind those red-tinged eyes. No one except Kenobi, that is. He still believes that his brother's eyes are only irritated; an irritation purely caused by the ashy air of Mustafar.

Mustafar became an undeclared dead zone. Since that fateful day many years ago, no one has dared to set foot on that black, charred planet. No one but the man believed dead.

He visits the exact spot every year on the exact day the battle took place. He sits on the edge of the river of lava flowing over those smoky plains and stares at his left arm, reliving his last meeting with his brother. The arm is no longer human. It is gold durasteel, the same as his brother's. He relives the fight and stands up. He closes his eyes, lets the tears fall. He can no longer hold them in.

Then he allows his presence to shine fiercely in the force for one brief moment as he whispers four words to the darkness surrounding him…

_I forgive you, brother_.

* * *

Vader hears the whispered message as it reverberates throughout the force for one brief moment. The presence is there and then it's gone, not quite long enough for him to pinpoint the location, but long enough to tell him that someone out there hasn't given up hope.

He knows who that someone is.

Each year, on the day that his brother sends that message, Vader is Anakin for that brief moment in time. He's back on the plains of Mustafar, walking away from the only brother he's ever had. And as much as he tries, as much as he wants to, Anakin cannot bring himself to turn back around and say those two simple words that would make everything okay…

_I'm sorry._

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_That's it for my little short story! Please review and I hope you enjoyed it!_


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